The Soul, of late a lovely sleeping child, <br />Spreads sudden wings and stands in radiant guise, <br />Eyed like the morn and bent upon the skies; <br />Her the blue gulf dismays not, nor the wild <br />Horizons with the wrecks of thunder piled; <br />Storm has she known, and how its murmur dies <br />Starlike through stainless heavens she would rise <br />And be no more with cloudy dreams beguiled. <br />Was sleep not sweet?--sweet till on sleeping ears <br />Earth's voices broke in discord. Now she hears <br />Far, far away diviner music move; <br />Nor shall her wing be sated of its flight, <br />Nor shall her eyes be weary of the night, <br />While round her sweep the singing stars of Love.<br /><br />Enid Derham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-awakening-2/
